“Did you get it?” he asked Howie, his voice unnaturally shrill. “Was it good?”
“It was epic,” Howie said, “but it happened so fast I didn’t catch it. Could you do it again?”
Briggs launched himself at Howie and took him down to the ground. It was like a wild animal attacking prey. We all rushed over and pried Briggs off Howie.
“He bit me,” Howie said. “I need a shot or something.”
“This was a dumb idea,” Lula said. “Who’s idea was this anyway?”
We all stared at her.
“Well, it looked good on the Travel Channel,” Lula said. “Fortunately I still got my zip-lining idea.”
Briggs’s eyes got squinty, and he growled at Lula.
“He’s unstable,” Lula said. “Someone needs to take charge of him.”
I supposed that would be me.
“Come on, Randy,” I said. “Let’s go home.”
I walked him to his car and watched him get in.
“Do you have clothes?” I asked him.
“I had a bathrobe. I guess it’s still on the catwalk. Maybe someone will mail it to me.”
“You can’t drive home like this.”
He looked down at himself. “I’ve still got a stiffie.”
“So it’s not all bad,” I said.
“I’d sort of like it to go away.”
“Not my rodeo,” I said.
“You want to go to a bar? Get a drink?”
“You’re naked.”
“There must be a bar where nobody would care,” Briggs said.
“We could try Kranski’s in north Trenton. I know the bartender.”
Briggs followed me to Kranski’s, and we walked in like there was nothing unusual and climbed onto barstools. A couple guys were watching Monday Night Football, and an older woman was nursing a drink at one of the high tops.
Bertie sauntered over and looked at Briggs.
“Short Stuff hasn’t got any clothes on,” Bertie said.
“He’s had a hard day,” I said. “He went bungee jumping and it sort of went downhill from there.”
“I don’t mind, but I’m going to have to Lysol that stool when he leaves,” Bertie said.
“Vodka rocks with a bourbon chaser,” Briggs said. He cut his eyes to me. “No pockets. No wallet.”
“Run a tab,” I told Bertie. “I’ll have a beer. Surprise me. And we could use some nachos.”
“I know this is one of those pity things, but it’s still nice,” Briggs said. “It’s like we’re friends.”
“It’s not a pity thing. You got dropped a hundred feet. You deserve a drink.”
“It was sort of a rush.”
“Really?”
“No,” Briggs said. “It was heart attack scary. I thought I was going to die. For all I know I did die. Just not forever.”
“Are you going to do the zip-lining film?”
“Maybe. I’m getting to like being naked.”
Bertie brought our drinks and the nachos, and I asked him about Kenny Morris.
“I haven’t seen him today,” Bertie said. “He doesn’t usually come in on Mondays.”
“Do you still think he should be high on the list of suspects?” I asked.
“He has motivation and anger,” Bertie said. “I don’t know if he could pull the trigger.”
I nodded agreement. That was my assessment too.
“Don’t fool yourself,” Briggs said. “Under the right circumstances anyone could pull the trigger.”
We finished the nachos, and Briggs was looking more mellow. His stiffie had deflated, and his teeth had stopped chattering.
“You’ve had a lot to drink,” I said. “Do you need a ride home?”
“Yeah, that would be great. I’m only about a mile away. I can walk back for my car tomorrow.”
“I thought you lived by the DMV.”
“That didn’t work out. I live on Poplar Street now.”
“Here’s the thing—I really don’t want you in my car naked.”
“I feel your pain,” Bertie said to me, handing over a big black garbage bag and some scissors. “See if you can dress him up in this.”
I cut holes in the bag for Briggs’s head and arms and dropped the bag over him. It came to below his knees. It was perfect.
Bertie looked down at Briggs. “The dude’s stylin’.”
TWENTY-TWO
IT WASN’T A sleepover night for Morelli so I went to bed in my most comfy, washed-out, ratty sleep shirt. I fell asleep when my head hit the pillow, and I wasn’t ready to wake up when the alarm went off. I fumbled for the clock, and as the fog of sleep cleared, I realized I wasn’t hearing the alarm. The phone was ringing.
I found my phone in the dark room and saw that it was my parents’ number. This jolted me wide awake because it had to be an emergency.
“What?” I said.
“Stephanie? It’s your mother.”
“I know! What’s wrong?”
“It’s your grandmother.”
Omigod. Grandma was dead.
“What about Grandma?” I asked, barely breathing.
“I think she has a man in her bedroom.”
“Excuse me?”
“I got up to go to the bathroom, and I heard talking. At first I thought she had her radio on, but then I realized it was your grandmother I was hearing. And a man.”
“What were they saying?”
“He was calling her his little honey bunny. It sounded like Bertie.”
I looked at my clock. It was two o’clock. Bertie was off work.
“What do you think I should do?” my mother asked. “I don’t want to wake your father. I don’t know what his reaction would be. It might not be good. How do you suppose a man even got into our house?”
“I imagine Grandma let him in.”
“Should I knock on her door to see if she’s okay?”
“Is she calling for help?”
“No.”
“Then we can assume she’s okay.”
“It’s not right,” my mother said. “It’s . . . icky. And we don’t really even know this man. We don’t know his intentions. He’s a bartender with tattoos and a motorcycle.”
“Where are you now?”
“I’m in the kitchen.”
“Are you going to sit in the living room and wait for him to leave?”
“Yes.”
I knew she would. When I was in high school and came home from a date, my mom would be in the living room, waiting. Sometimes my dad would be there too.
“Don’t you think it will be awkward to see Bertie leaving?” I asked her.
“Your grandmother should have thought of that before she decided to entertain a man in her bedroom.”
“Maybe you should ground her.”
“I’ve tried. It doesn’t work. She does whatever she wants. She doesn’t listen to me.”
“I’m going back to sleep. You should too.”
“Suppose they’re doing things?”
“Eewwww!”
“Exactly,” my mother said. And she hung up.
It was hard to fall asleep with the thought of Grandma doing things. I thrashed around for a half hour and finally got up and had some cereal. I went back to bed, and the next time I woke up Ranger was in my bedroom, looking down at me. He was hard to see in the dark room, with his dark skin and black clothes. I knew it was Ranger because he said “Babe.” I glanced at my clock. It was four o’clock.
“I have a problem you are uniquely qualified to solve,” Ranger said.
Last time he said that it turned out to be the best night of my life.
I propped myself up on one elbow. “Oh boy.”
“Not that problem,” Ranger said. “Someone broke into the Bogart plant, and I want you to take a look.”
“Now?”
“We need to do this before the plant opens.”
“I’m tired. It’s too early.”
“It’s four o’clock.”
“People are supposed to be asleep at four o’clock.”
Ranger flipped the light on and went to my dresser. Panties, bra, T-shirt, jeans got thrown onto the bed.
“Get dressed, and I’ll buy you breakfast.”
“This is weird. Usually when you’re in my bedroom you’re telling me to take my clothes off.”
“Yeah, I’m having a hard time with it too. Don’t expect it to happen again.”
I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed. “Give me five minutes. And it would be great if you could make coffee.”
He took in my bare legs and the clingy washed-out sleep shirt. “Babe,” he said so soft it was barely a whisper.